Zaklar the Warrior
by Larvinator
Summary: A wild Larvitar is under immense pressure from his father to find a trainer and become a feared fighter, but Zaklar has no interest in battling. One-shot just to get into the swing of things here, K for mild violence, I suppose.


"You'll be one and you'll like it!"

The roar of the Tyranitar drowned out the various nearby Pokemon noises and silenced them altogether. The only sound in the lush forest was the rustling of trees in the wind, and every creature stayed frozen in fear at the great reptile's anger. For in a cave carved intentionally by claw into a limestone mountain, a fight amongst two great powers of the woods was brewing. Zakrax, the massive, scaly Pokemon that could move the earth itself, lift boulders without so much as grunting in effort, rend the flesh of anyone who dared challenge him in two…and his son, the Larvitar named Zaklar, destined to be a great fighter like his father at some point. But at this moment in time, two feet tall, with his hands on his hips, his mouth drawn in a tight sneer, and his eyes burning in defiance, it seemed like the small green lizard could never meet that expectation.

"I told you once, I told you twice, and I'll tell you again and again I'm not going to be one." His red eyes shut in exasperation before he turned away, showing his strange cup-like tail to his furious parent.

"You think the whole world's gonna come right to you and give you everything you want!" the dinosaur-like creature spat. "But you know something? Your ridiculous dreams of just wandering around and avoiding fights all the time is gonna come crashing down on you when you realize you gotta evolve someday! And Tyranitars fight, they don't turn into passive nomads!" As if to drive his point home, he grabbed a fist-sized rock off the floor and tightened his grip on it, crushing it into dust.

Zaklar watched in total calm as the dust sifted through Zakrax's claws and onto the cave floor. It was clear he had seen this many times before. "Dad, no. I don't care how many ancestors did this before me -"

"You should!" Zakrax interjected. "Your fathers, your forefathers, even your older brothers and sisters have all been proud fighters, people the Zak family can carve into their history with a sense of pride. Tournament after tournament they won, but they needed guides, and so will you if you don't want to be cut out of our history altogether, Zaklar! Your grandfather, Zaktek, he was the champion of the Johto League Tournament five years running, and won countless others! Your sister, Zakkra, she's already made a name for herself! And your brother –"

"_Shut up!_" The Larvitar had his hands over his ears, shaking his head vigorously. "Why aren't you out there, then, dad?! Why are you still sitting around here uselessly?! At least I have a plan! You just stay in this dark cave like a Slugma!"

"You KNOW why!" the great beast snarled. "The hunters, those miserable excuses for humans, are shooting the Pokemon down with their exploding sticks, and they take their dead bodies as trophies! Someone has to stay here and protect the Pokemon that live here!"

"There haven't been hunters for years! You're pathetic! Maybe before you tell me to make something of MY life, you should check to make sure YOURS isn't a pile of Mamoswine crap!" At this Zaklar stormed out, sprinting on all four of his tiny limbs, with his father screaming furiously at him to come back. Into the foliage he sprang, through tough, dry bramble bushes and over burr-filled grasses, ignoring the sharp pinpricks as he ran to his place, the place his father knew nothing about, where he could be in peace for at least five freaking minutes. Pokemon in his way swiftly moved out of it and watched him go with sympathy. This was not an uncommon occurrence.

Dozens of trees later, Zaklar bounded out of the bushes and into a clearing. He stopped and stood on all fours, treasuring the cool breeze that caressed his face. While absentmindedly pulling a thorn from his crest, he stared once again at the lake, whose cooling waters had soothed him before. The breeze rippled the surface of the green-tinted water as he pushed his way through the thick layers of reeds until he finally came upon the muddy shore. As the quiet washed over him as surely as the lake's liquids would have, he felt his anger lessen.

These waters reminded him what he was fighting against his father's wishes for. For being free. For being able to wander and travel wherever you pleased, for finding places like this to call your own. He wanted this life. His brothers, his sisters, the generations before him, they could have their life of fighting and endless glory. He, Zaklar, would stand unknown by all in the distance, laughing at them and their foolish desires of fame. Never did they know what it meant to be _this_ kind of happy, a perfectly and simply content happy with a bit of food in your stomach and a lake's quiet lappings at the shore lulling you to sleep.

No…they'd never understand.

Intending to let the anger drain completely, the green lizard rolled over and stared upward into the sky. But every cloud he saw reminded him of the argument and only worsened his rage. That one, his father's face, shouting…that one his sister, roaring in triumph…that one, a Pokeball…

Resentment building, Zaklar rolled over and stared into the placid waters, only to have his reflection, his face contorted with frustration, meet him. He stared back at that hateful face, thinking the same phrase over and over again.

_Why won't they understand?_

It wasn't that he hated trainers. No, trainers were fine. They treated the Pokemon they caught with dignity. They made them stronger than they ever could have been in the wild. They directed them, channeling primal instincts into crafty tactics. No, he didn't hate trainers; in fact, he sort of respected them. They couldn't fight, but they made creatures that could fight into the most efficient melee machines they could possibly be through dedicated training and quick thinking in combat.

But…he didn't want to be a trainer's Pokemon. Fighting never interested him. He wanted to explore, to search for uninhabited lands and to find beautiful places. The last thing he wanted was to be kept in a ball, forced to go where the trainer wanted. It didn't matter how nice the trainer, or how good the food, or whatever. There was a sense of freedom missing there, a sense of freedom he clung to for dear life.

Realizing that the lake was not going to make him feel better, he stood up slowly and reluctantly. If only he lived here, instead of in that dank cavern with his dad breathing down his neck about joining a trainer soon. Maybe it was somewhat his fault, and he began to regret his last comment before he left. His dad still thought it was a secret, but Zaklar knew. His father had been badly injured in his first fight against an uncontrollable Feraligatr who, in a blind and unneeded rage, went far beyond what was needed to knock him out. The two broken arms were a permanent injury. He couldn't raise them above his neck and could never fight in a battle again.

_He's just trying to make sure you can have the glory he never had, so he can be proud of something in his failed life. He doesn't want you to throw something he wanted so badly and couldn't get away._ The small voice at the back of his head was not helping Zaklar's growing depression, and with a regretful air about him, he pushed his way back through the reeds.

_But he still doesn't know that I don't want a life of battling. He thinks it's a phase. Soon he'll realize that I'm pursuing what I love, and then he'll know that I've made up for his injury in a different way._ Still, he knew an apology was necessary, and pushed the last reed aside…

…only to come face to face with a Leafeon.

Zaklar blinked, dumbfounded at the sight of the fox-like creature. "Who are you?"

The Leafeon didn't reply. She stared at him intently with her deep brown eyes, then bounded off to the right.

"Wait! Where are you going?" The confused Larvitar followed the leafy Pokemon around the reeds, unable to catch her. She ran for a few seconds longer before she leapt over a patch of reeds and disappeared from sight. He paused, pondering the wisdom of following her for an instant before following suit and hopping over the green stalks. Then he realized what the Leafeon was.

Into view came a young adult human, with tattered jeans and a loose red shirt. His hair was scraggly as well, and tangled black bunches of it hung down to about his ears. His unkempt appearance would have made Zaklar dismiss him as an inexperienced trainer on the spot had he not locked eyes with him. The intense gaze of his narrowed, green eyes unnerved the small Larvitar, who quickly realized he had seen many, many battles with those eyes. Hidden behind one of the trainer's long, slender legs was the Leafeon, gazing at Zaklar with almost unnatural interest. He stepped back as he quickly realized where this was going.

But it was too late for that. "Evergreen, Razor Leaf!" the trainer boomed in a deep voice. Evergreen gladly obliged, darting out from under her trainer's legs. Leaves suddenly flaked off parts of her body where they were growing, then flew at Zaklar with ridiculous speed. There was no avoiding it, and the Larvitar cried out in pain as the sharp leaves cut through his scales and into his skin.

He looked over the trainer carefully, trying to read his expression. If he knew what the trainer was expecting, he could formulate a plan that would surprise him. Slowly Zaklar came to a conclusion as he stared into the trainer's semi-cocky expression.

_He expects me to run away._

_He expects me to be a weak, baby Larvitar that runs crying into the forest for his parents, sniveling over his scratches from the skirmish._

_Oh, have I got a surprise for you._

Zaklar leapt right at the Leafeon, who was caught off-guard by the attack from the Larvitar who but a few seconds ago was trying to escape. His arm hardened and sharpened and he slashed at Evergreen with his Stone Edge attack. A high-pitched yelp sounded as the rock-hard, sharp edge bit into her skin, and she leapt back out of his immediate range, bleeding lightly out of her side.

The trainer grinned, looking happy to have an actual fight on his hands instead of the anticipated chasing of the small lizard. "Quick Attack!"

Again, there was nothing Zaklar could do about the attack as the leafy fox raced forward, becoming a tan blur, for he had come too close with his attack to dodge effectively.

"Oof!" he grunted as his stomach was headbutted hard. He flew backwards and slammed into a tree, the wind knocked out of his lungs. It was only there, doubled over and trying desperately just to breathe, that he knew it was hopeless. This trainer probably had years of experience under his belt, as did his Pokemon. His Leafeon even knew the right angle to hit the Larvitar at so he hit the tree.

_I still want my freedom!_ he thought desperately, and turned tail and tried to bound away. But the trainer had clearly expected this, as his next command was instantaneous and perfect. "Evergreen, Vine Whip and ensnare him!" he barked.

Two bumps formed under her skin, and seconds later two long vines burst free, cracking the air with speed and making Zaklar flinch. One grabbed his crest and the other his foot, making him trip and land on his head, rattling his skull painfully. He closed his eyes in defeat as the pair of vines reeled him in, dragging him across the ground towards the inevitable.

_Well, dad, you got your wish. I have a powerful, cunning trainer to call my own._ Despite all other feelings, Zaklar admitted to himself it could be far worse. He could have been made a pet, doomed to walk around the same house for the rest of his days, or worse, shot by a hunter, a bleeding hole torn into his side, leaking his life away. Yes, it could have been worse, but he still wasn't happy about this…

"Grasswhistle."

And yet was there reason to complain? It did nothing. Maybe his father was right. Maybe he was destined to be a great fighter. Perhaps his dreams of just wandering about and finding new places…maybe it was foolish. But he still ached for the life he was about to lose, the life he had dreamed of since his early childhood…

As the soothing tune floated about, finding its way into his ears, he felt less caring about the whole thing, and his eyelids felt like they were made of stone. Something bounced against his back, he felt an odd sensation of lightness, and then felt new, smooth, cool ground below him, and knew vaguely as he heard a soft click that this was the end of Zaklar, the nomad. This was the end of Zaklar, the free. This was the end of Zaklar, the explorer. But it was also a beginning, he realized as his conscious slipped from his grasp. This was the beginning of Zaklar, the follower of the tradition of his ancestors. This was the beginning of Zaklar, the son who would make his father forget every awful fight they had.

This…was the beginning of Zaklar, the warrior.


End file.
